


The Seven Shirts of Jared Padalecki; or, How Jensen (Almost) Met His Doom

by salixbabylon



Category: Real Person Fiction, Supernatural RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-03-09
Updated: 2008-03-09
Packaged: 2019-09-05 05:40:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16804705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/salixbabylon/pseuds/salixbabylon
Summary: Jared's lack of fashion sense just might finally drive Jensen crazy one of these days...





	The Seven Shirts of Jared Padalecki; or, How Jensen (Almost) Met His Doom

**Author's Note:**

> Super massive ninja thanks for writing support from [](http://nebulein.livejournal.com/profile)[nebulein](http://nebulein.livejournal.com/) and [](http://sarka.livejournal.com/profile)[sarka](http://sarka.livejournal.com/), who held my hand while I played with these boys for the first time. More squishy gratitude for my awesome betas, [](http://causette.livejournal.com/profile)[causette](http://causette.livejournal.com/) and [](http://sarka.livejournal.com/profile)[sarka](http://sarka.livejournal.com/).

It wasn't until after the first break that it started. Jared's fashion sense had always been more than a touch out there and people tended to grin and laugh at him sometimes. And by 'people,' Jensen meant himself mostly, because who the fuck cared what Jared wore anyway; he was as hot as butter melting on a Texas-size stack of pancakes and twice as tasty. With eyes and dimples like that, no one ever looked at his goofy stupid clothes. Jensen was probably the only person in the Pacific time zone who noticed them at all, and that was only because he was struggling so goddamned hard to not look at anything else that he _had_ to laugh at and mock his friend.

So when Jared showed up at the set wearing a t-shirt, black and loose and new, with the words **Cleverly disguised as a responsible adult** emblazoned on the front, Jensen was absolutely required to tease him about it.

"Nice shirt," he commented, nursing a cup of coffee while he sat in his chair in the makeup trailer, getting the finishing touches put on today's set of scrapes and bruises from yet another brawl with a ghost.

Jared raised an eyebrow in an expression Jensen was familiar with enough to read as successfully restraining a grin, but only just barely. "Do you like it?"

"Oh yeah; very classy. Only, dude, I don't think anyone on earth would ever look at you and think you were an adult."

"Oh really?" Jared challenged, sitting down in his own chair.

The makeup girls tried not to giggle.

"Really." Jensen looked pointedly at the numerous brightly-colored wrappers and bags of candy piled up around Jared's station, 'just in case.' He also gave a pointed look at his co-star's socks, one of which was grayish-blue while the other was black.

Jared gave him a very theatrical sigh in response. One of the girls took pity on him, patting his shoulder saying, "We love your youthful exuberance, sweetie."

Jared flashed his dimples at her, then turned and stuck his tongue out at Jensen. There was a stripe of bright candy-pink down the center.

Jensen rolled his eyes and went back to drinking his coffee, trying not to think about that tongue. Especially not about it doing anything that was rated for adults-only. And definitely not watching it lick the lollipop Jared was currently fellating.

*****

A few days later came another shirt, also new-looking. **Objects larger than they appear** , it said, and Jensen couldn't stop his involuntary snort of laughter when he saw it.

"How much larger are they, Sasquatch?"

Jared straightened up, threw out his chest, and raised his arms without a word, flexing like a body-builder and grinning like a loon. Something sticky seemed to be gluing his jaw shut, which explained the unusual silence.

Jensen tried not to focus on the way the shirt stretched across Jared's pecs or the way his biceps rippled under the short sleeves. "Quit goofing around," he said, tossing a bundle of script pages across the coffee table at him. "Here are the revisions; we've gotta get to work."

The pages slid onto the floor, but neither of them noticed.

Still grinning, Jared had stopped flexing and was slowly sliding his hands down from the words on his chest, down the tight abs that Jensen always made sure not to stare at when they were changing, and hovered just below his belt-buckle. Huge hands framed his crotch, right about where Jensen guessed his pubes would be. Jared gave Jensen the most cheesy blatant porno-movie look and slowly licked his lips.

A headache started to pound in Jensen's left temple - probably a reaction to all the blood in his head suddenly shifting southward.

Jared wiggled his eyebrows and jerked his hips around, apparently trying to imitate Elvis Presley, although Jensen wasn't going to hurt himself trying to figure out what the fuck Jared was trying to hum. The long fingers slipped another inch down his body.

Jensen closed his eyes and gave a long-suffering groan, trying to slow down his heart rate. "Yeah man, I get it. Huge freaking hands, huge feet, dick down to your knees. Right." He opened his eyes before a mental image of _that_ had a chance to creep in. "Can we get working on this now?"

Jared sat down, oozing smugness and still humming. He picked up his script from the floor without a word.

It was going to be a long fucking day, Jensen thought, trying not to stare at Jared's hands

*****

The next morning, when Jared's shirt read **Wanna see my sweet Ninja skills?** , Jensen lost it.

"First off, that's my line, you fucker. And second, did you buy out a t-shirt shop over the break or what?"

Jared rolled his eyes. "Nope. I went shopping with my little sister."

Ah; Jensen nodded. He had a little sister of his own and knew how they could be. He certainly knew he bought all kinds of crazy shit when Mackenzie talked him into going to the mall with her and assumed the same of Jared. No reason not to tease him mercilessly, though. "So _Megan_ made you buy a t-shirt shop?"

Rolling his eyes again, Jared said, "I bought her a stupid little tank top that said something sleazy and bet her ten bucks she wouldn't wear it in public. So then she made me buy a bunch of shirts, too, and bet me _I_ wouldn't wear them. As if."

"Yeah no kidding – it's not like you have taste. Uh, I meant, care how you look," Jensen snickered.

Jared gave him a none-too-gentle shove. "Fuck off. Anyway, I have to take pictures to prove I'm wearing them. Hey, let me get my phone; you can take today's picture."

Jensen took the phone and after a brief debate about whether Jared should try to do a 'ninja pose' and some verbal abuse pointing out that ninjas were not actually known for their clumsy oafish hugeness, they finally got the pictures taken and emailed off to Megan.

"You're so mean to me," Jared pouted.

"Just doing my job, man. I'm supposed to be your older brother; you're goddamned lucky that the itching powder last season wasn't real," he grinned

Jared snorted. "Try it and I'll drag you into the shower and make you help me wash off."

And wasn't that a nice thought? Crowded into a shower (because honestly, Jared was probably crowded even in the biggest stall, all by himself), hot water and steam, and that sexy low voice begging Jensen to help him, to touch him... Not a towel in sight...

A warm hand on his arm made Jensen almost jump out of his skin.

"What is with you, man? Too much coffee this morning or what? You look like you're going to hyperventilate." The hand slid up Jensen's bicep to his shoulder, wrapping around him in a supportive half-hug.

Jensen took a deep breath and shoved him off. "Stop pawing at me, dude. I know I'm so hot you can't control yourself, but Christ."

Jared paused and let a wicked grin spread slowly across his face. "Someday you'll stop pushing me away," he grinned.

Jensen rolled his eyes and shoved him again, to the sound of giggles. "Not today," he growled.

But it _was_ getting an awful lot harder to stop himself from pulling Jared closer every time his friend touched him.

*****

Jared showed up wearing a normal t-shirt the next day, and Jensen was surprised to find himself a little disappointed. Apparently he'd been getting a lot more entertainment out of their new routine and his curiosity over what the day's slogan would be than he'd realized.

The solid green was nice, though, and picked up the flecks of color in Jared's eyes. And unlike the stiffness of a new t-shirt, this one was old and worn and had shrunk a bit or whatever and it fit him perfectly - just tight enough to see the shape of his chest, the slight nubs of his nipples, and then looser over his waist, where it tapered in sharply.

The fabric looked so soft; Jensen wanted to touch it. Touch what was underneath, too. The fingers of his left hand twitched a little, involuntarily reaching for what he wanted.

Jared gave him a puzzled look because yeah, Jensen was obviously staring at him like some freak.

His friend cleared his throat. "Yeah, no more t-shirts at work," he said, clearly thinking that was what Jensen was so lost in thought about. "Meg said I can't wear them just around you guys; I have to be seen in public. Apparently y'all don't count, since everyone on set knows me and it's just not embarrassing enough."

"Hmm," Jensen grunted eloquently, trying to play it cool and hoping he wasn't blushing or something stupid like that over thinking about touching Jared's chest. He really had to get over this crush or whatever the fuck it was that had developed during the month-long break, when he'd sat around _missing_ Jared, like some girl, even though the guy called him, like, every ten minutes. Which was weird and fucked up for a guy friendship, yeah, but then again, this was Jared after all. Things had always been a little off, somehow, between them. Too close, too fast. Jensen never made friends that fast, ever, and even though it had been over a year, it was still weird whenever he bothered to think about it. Which was why he didn't, mostly, because it just gave him a headache and then made him start looking at Jared's nipples or something, and wait, what?

Jared wasn't talking anymore and clearly there had been some question Jensen had missed while he was busy having his little personal meltdown.

So much for playing it cool.

"What?" he asked, picking at a loose thread on his jeans.

He could feel the look Jared was giving him. "Do you wanna go out tonight, grab a few brews? We haven't done that since we got back."

"Yeah, ok. Usual place?"

One nod and a strange look and that was that. Back to work; business as usual.

Several hours later they were sliding into a booth, both with a fresh drink in each hand. Two beers each made them look like alcoholics, but hey, it was easier on everyone if they started out with four instead of two. Lazy is what Jensen thought it was, but then it wasn't like they weren't going to kill at least a six-pack within an hour anyway.

Before they got too settled in Jared removed his hoodie, getting comfortable, and displaying tonight's slogan, **I love everybody and you're next**.

Jensen drank about half the bottle in one pull, eyes lingering on the L-word.

Jared wiggled his eyebrows, holding out his phone again.

There wasn't enough light in their booth to get anything but a dark blur, so Jared ambled over to the pool table, bottle in hand. Jensen snapped a picture, trying not to think of what Jared would look like stretched back against the felted green, acres of naked skin everywhere, only to be startled out of his accidental fantasy when Jared yelped and grabbed the phone away from him.

"Wait, no - not with the beer," he said, tapping at the phone to delete the picture while he shoved his bottle at Jensen.

"We're in a bar, dorkface. What, your little sister doesn't know you drink beer?" he asked incredulously.

Jared made a face. "Fuck off man; my little sister doesn't even know what beer is."

Jensen's mouth actually hung open for a minute. "Dude, she's in college."

"La la la, not listening," Jared said, scooting the bottles out of sight and leaning back against the pool table again.

"You are seriously delusional."

Jensen took the picture and it came out fairly well, despite the still-dim lighting. Maybe he should consider finding his real camera sometime. Then again, the only thing he really wanted to photograph was Jared, and he really didn't need to be encouraging _those_ thoughts, especially the ones minus the goofy t-shirts...

A girl helpfully guarding their beer suddenly piped up and offered to snap a picture of the two of them together. Before Jensen even had time to process her words, Jared's arms were wrapping around him, one over his shoulders, one hand on his stomach.

It was warm, that hand. Heavy, too, not just lightly hovering on his body. Also a little moist.

Jensen took a deep breath and was awfully glad he was an actor, because a normal person would have had a totally freaked out expression on their face right now, and panic was building in his gut, right under that goddamned _hand_ , but Jensen was smiling anyway and hoping to God he looked casual.

Perhaps slightly drunk.

But definitely not aroused.

Picture taken, they thanked the girl and went back to their booth, Jared grinning and babbling a mile a minute about how friendly everyone was here in Vancouver and how much he loved this city and tapping at his phone to send the photos off to Megan.

"Thanks again for the pictures. She'll love this one with the two of us," he said, knocking his shoulder against Jensen's. "You're like family now."

Jensen made a face and downed the rest of his beer. "Thanks, man," he said, feeling like he'd been punched in the gut for reasons he didn't even want to contemplate as he scooted out and went to them get another double-round. "Thanks a lot..."

He leaned on the bar, ignoring its stickiness and closed his eyes for a minute. _Love_. Not a word Jensen used very often. Or ever, actually, unless he was talking to the women in his family and pretty much had to say it. It was a special word, for a feeling he wasn't certain he'd ever felt, at least not the way he thought he was supposed to from books and movies and songs and stuff.

Jared sure threw it around a lot, though, but then again, the kid was like that. He loved triple-cheese pizza and his favorite band of the week and chocolate-covered gummi bears and the hairdresser who made Sam's hair look sexy and his agent and his friends. He really _did_ love everybody.

Especially when he was drunk and wrapped around Jensen like a giant drooling octopus, slobbering, "I love you, man," down his neck as he was a few hours later while Jensen helped him into his guest bed. Jared's bed, really, since no one else ever stayed in it, and he'd bought the extra-long California king with just one person in mind.

Overly strong arms pulled him off balance and toppled him down onto his 'guest.' A mumbled "G'night" preceded a slobbery, beer-sour kiss that was probably meant to land on Jensen's cheek but didn't. Even slobbery, Jared's lips were soft and sweet and welcoming and Jensen was going to kick the shit out of his subconscious if it didn't quit it with the girly crap.

Jared's eyes were closed, mouth quirked up just slightly at the corners, lips still slightly pursed. He'd fallen asleep before Jensen even got himself untangled.

"Good night."

*****

The next day was pretty normal, and Jensen had the day after that off entirely. He spent the hours tidying up his house, answering emails, calling his mother, and not thinking about Jared.

He didn't think about all the clothes Jared had left strewn around his house, or the half-eaten pizza with the disgusting bell peppers on it in his fridge, or the candy-sticky controllers on his Xbox, or the texts arriving on his phone with random little messages from Jared as he went about his own day.

He just needed twenty-four hours on his own, to clear his head, get it back where it belonged. Somewhere safe. Somewhere comfortable. Somewhere with a firm line between friendship and, well, whatever this was.

At night, hand on his cock, too tired to keep memories of chapped but soft lips and beer breath out of his head, Jensen knew he'd failed.

*****

**Don't sweat the petty. Pet the sweaty.** read Jared's shirt the next day. They were down for rehearsals and stunt practice, and had scheduled time with Lou and his assistants on the actual set, with props and everything, to get things right.

"Thought you said you couldn't wear those at work anymore," Jensen noted.

"Yeah, I took a picture of myself filling up at the gas station earlier," Jared shrugged. "Think that'll count?"

"Cheater. I'll call Megan myself and tell her."

"Tell her what?" Jared protested. "I was in the damn shirt in public. I don't _go_ anywhere else – my house, on set, your house, the bar... I can't think of a single other place I've been since we got back from break, I'm so fucking busy."

"God, quit whining, you baby," Jensen snorted, shaking his head.

"Save it for filming, guys," Lou said. "Today we're just going over the blocking and I don't want anybody getting hurt. Focus, all right?"

So they worked, slowly moving around the set, saying their lines, knocking over the props. Sam and Dean were having another knock-down, drag-out fight, and despite the laughter and conscious effort of both actors, there was a current of tension that never entirely disappeared.

They rehearsed all morning, then broke for lunch to try and figure out why it wasn't working. They both kept being clumsy in different places and finally decided, as they finished eating, that they just needed to go over it a billion more times and get some muscle memory. Jared suggested the other guys take another hour; no point in them sitting around, bored out of their skulls, watching him and Jensen. Plus, the lack of audience might help them loosen up.

Jensen had no idea what Jared's problem was. _His_ problem was that when Jared grabbed him around the waist and pulled him flush against his body, it set off a chain of reactions that could be best categorized as having 'impure thoughts.' He'd been having an awful lot of those lately and he was pretty fucking glad he wasn't actually Catholic, although on the other hand it might have helped to have someone to confess to. He couldn't even jerk off anymore without thinking of his friend, his friend who felt like they were _family_ , for fuck's sake, and then being consumed by guilt for the rest of the day. Which resulted in Jensen having a lot fewer orgasms than usual, which made him really fucking horny.

No - _cranky_. It made him cranky.

Right.

Man, he needed to get good and laid, or at least rent some new pornos or something and stop thinking about goddamned Jared, for fuck's sake. Beating off wasn't supposed to cause this much fucking angst.

Lost in thought, Jensen missed a beat and found himself pushed up hard against the wall. Jared's hands were on his collarbones, one thigh wedged between both of his. Jared's chest pressed against his with each slightly-breathless inhalation, and Jensen's heart began to pound ridiculously fast as they both froze.

The awkward moment lengthened, and to his dismay Jensen realized that the pause wasn't the only thing growing. Jared's chin pressed into his temple, moist breath warming his forehead. His hands on his friend's shoulder and arm clenched reflexively, but he wasn't sure if it was to push Jared away or pull him closer.

And Jared was, in point of fact, sweating a lot. His shirt was sticking to him and he smelled, well, it's hard to smell a temperature but 'warm' was the only word Jensen could think of to describe it other than 'like Jared.'

And fuck – he knew what Jared smelled like, a stupid little fact his brain had filed away at some point. Jensen's hands tightened again, pushing his friend away and wondering if the moment had been as long and weird for Jared as it had been for him.

There was another moment, then Jared wrinkled his nose. "Appropriate shirt for today, ain't it?"

He nodded, still a little dazed.

Pulling back sharply, Jared gave him a sheepish smile. "I probably reek, huh?"

"No, you don't," Jensen blurted.

"I'm drenched with sweat. 'Course I do," Jared argued, puzzled.

"Not really. Not yet," he shrugged, trying for nonchalant.

Jared gave him a weird look.

Fortunately, the door opened and the rest of the group returned at that moment. Taking advantage of how closely they were still standing, Jared grabbed Jensen in a smothering hug, trying to get his armpit over his face. "Aw, Jenny loves the stink of my sweat, guys. He thinks it smells like roses!"

Jensen struggled to get away, making a gagging noise, finally elbowing Jared hard in the ribs to get loose.

"Ow!" Jared complained, rubbing his side. "You might get the ladies with all your sweet talk but you need to work on your body language, dude."

"Yeah, whatever," Jensen scowled, feeling his face flush. "You can keep your rosy sweat stink to yourself, girlyman."

That night, beating off, he tried _really_ hard not to think about how Jared felt pressed up against him. To not remember that firm body, slightly moist hot skin, the way their thighs were tangled together. The warm breath on his forehead as Jared gasped for air. His fingers tightened around his cock, remembering the feeling of hard biceps under his hands, and thrust into his own palm faster in response. Closing his eyes, he let the brief sensory-flash of that _smell_ come back, all around him, _Jared_ all around him, and Jensen came with a strangled yell that wasn't a name, but just barely.

He lay panting for a few minutes, trailing his fingers through the puddle of come on his belly.

Well. Great.

This is just fucking ridiculous, he thought, and reached for some tissues to clean up.

*****

Jensen was lingering in front of the beer selection, trying to decide what he wanted, when a familiar voice behind him said, "Coors light, man. Come on, Jen, get something normal instead of that brown stuff you always drink."

He glanced to the side and saw Jared with a full cart, of course, piled up nearly to the top as if he was feeding a family of eight for a month, rather than one guy for probably four days - maybe five if he went out to eat a few times. Jensen had a delicate little arm basket with some gourmet coffee and the fresh-baked bread that he'd come to this market for especially, and some fruit and vegetables. It was so totally unfair how Jared ate.

Jensen rolled his eyes and grabbed a six-pack of the local microbrewed stout he liked, then turned around to actually look at his friend. He laughed out loud: today's shirt read **SHH! I'm sneaking up on you!**

"Why should I buy beer that looks like piss if I'm never gonna drink it?" he asked.

Jared gave him an incredulous look. "For me, asswipe. God, you're such a bad host."

"You want some of that crap, put it in your own basket."

Jared rolled his eyes. "Whatever. I get what you like to drink for my house." Jensen gave him a puzzled look, and he continued, "Oh come on, have you ever seen me drink that shit? It's _brown_ , man; God knows what's in it."

"Nah, I guess not," Jensen admitted after a moment of thought.

"Well?"

"Fine," he sighed, grabbing a six-pack of the Coors. "All this good beer to choose from and you still drink like a good ol' boy. I think all that candy ruined your taste buds, man." He wedged the cans into the basket, shuffling items around so the fruit and bread didn't get squashed.

He couldn't stop himself from grinning again, looking at Jared's t-shirt. "So... sneaky, huh?"

"Yeah. I like this one best, I think," Jared said looking down at his chest. "This was the one I agreed to buy before the whole bet thing started. What are you doing out here anyway?" he said, changing topic. "This is _my_ market; there're three grocery stores closer to your place."

Trust Jared to know the location of every place that sold food in all of British Columbia. Jensen pointed at his loaf of bread.

"Ah, couldn't stay away from Marcella's wholegrain, eh?"

"'Eh?' You goin' native, boy?" Jensen asked in full-on Texas drawl.

"Shhh, you're ruining my cover," Jared grinned. "Oh hey, while you're here..." He pulled out his phone, fiddled with it, and handed it to Jensen. "Come on, take a picture for me. She got pissed at the last one, made me admit that I was on my way to the set and said it was cheating. I talked her down, but now I'm actually _at_ a store, around normal people and everything, so you've gotta take a picture."

"What do I look like, paparazzi? Your PA? First I have to buy your pisswater beer for my own damn house and now I have to do a photoshoot of you in the supermarket?"

"What, you want me to just accost a random stranger?"

A girl down the aisle, who Jensen suddenly realized had been fiddling with the energy drinks far longer than was reasonable, perked up and all but fluttered her eyelashes at them.

Jensen glared at her. "Fine."

Jared grinned and posed with the infamous bread. Of course Jensen didn't want it back after his huge paws had squashed it out of shape, so they had to go get another loaf, and then headed to the check-out counter together. It was disgustingly domestic.

"Hey, come over for dinner," Jared suggested as the cashier rang up his mountain of food.

"You gonna cook for me, sugar?" Jensen teased.

"Hell no – this is my food," Jared said, possessively shielding his groceries with his body. "I was thinking takeout."

They picked up Mexican, arguing about the merits of Tex-mex versus California style versus the stuff that passed itself off as Mexican in the rest of America, and then went back to Jared's place since he had the most groceries that needed to stay cool. Jensen wedged his few cold items into the minuscule space left in Jared's fridge and opened himself a beer. They munched silently through about a third of a game on ESPN and Jared lost that slightly desperate look he always got when he was hungry.

Well, mostly. Something still seemed to be bothering him, judging by the way he was fiddling with the pop-top on his beer can and fidgeting, but hell if Jensen knew what it was. He tried ignoring it for a while, but one too many gut-deep dramatic sighs finally made him roll his eyes and ask.

"All right, spill. What's wrong?"

Jared gave him a long look, penetrating, and _whooo boy_ Jensen wished he hadn't just thought that word. Then Jared shrugged and turned back to the TV.

"Nothing. Just hurt my shoulder a bit yesterday. Slammed into Dave at the wrong angle and then into the wall. Looked fine on film; hurts like a bitch today."

"Wuss. Have you done anything about it? Heat? Ice? Advil? Massage? Or just whining?"

"Fuck you," Jared said, making a face. "You can't massage your own shoulders. And I kinda forgot about calling anyone and trying to get an appointment." He gave Jensen his patented puppy-dog-eyes.

"I don't know why that look still works on me," Jensen mused. "It's not like you're subtle; I should have built up some immunity by now or something." He rearranged himself on the couch and threw a cushion on the floor between his legs. "The things I do for you. Fine. Sit down and shut up and I'll rub your shoulders, brat."

"My hero," Jared grinned, fluttering his eyelashes.

It went ok at first. Jensen kept his eyes on the game and let his hands do their thing, trying not to pay attention to the proximity of Jared's body or the warmth he was giving off, or, fuck, the way he smelled. Definitely not to the feeling of his muscles relaxing under Jensen's hands. He was just helping out a friend who was in pain. Nothing weird about that.

Not until Jared started groaning, anyway.

They were small noises at first, just barely audible sighs that Jensen could ignore so long as he kept his eyes on the TV. But then his fingers must have hit a knot and Jared made a noise that was something like a whimper, and when Jensen responded with a more soothing touch, well. The most sensually obscene groan followed. It must have felt good.

It certainly _sounded_ like it felt good.

Way, way, _way_ too good.

Jensen froze. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. To ignore the growing hardness in his jeans and his desire to shove Jared forward and rip off his pants and fuck him stupid, right there on the living room rug.

He shivered and took a few more deep breaths.

"You stopped," Jared mumbled after a minute.

"Um. Yeah. It's getting late. I should go," he said, hoping Jared was too out of it to notice the breathlessness of his voice as he finally withdrew his hands.

Jared took a few moments to yawn and stretch and rotate his shoulders and neck, making happy noises and generally indicating that the massage had done him good, even if it had tormented the living hell out of Jensen. He busied himself cleaning up their mess and getting his groceries ready to go home.

Sleepy-eyed and with a slight smile, Jared got himself standing and accompanied Jensen to the door. His own arms full, Jensen was more than a little startled when Jared's long ape-arms wrapped around him, their usual casual hug replaced by a full-body press that Jensen hadn't been mentally prepared for at all. It was a lot longer and well, more _embracing_ , for lack of a better word, than Jared's totally inebriated hugs were, and goddamnit – not only did Jensen apparently know how his friend smelled, but he'd also categorized his hugs. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Anyway, this one was more... More arms wrapped firmly around him and more hands pressing purposefully into his body, more warm breath at his temple – more _sensual_.

Jensen's dick gave another hopeful twitch in his jeans and he cleared his throat, pushing back until Jared let go and the confusing, embracing, sensual, and _long_ hug finally ended.

Jared's eyes were closed. He opened them and the look on his face was pure... something. Affection, maybe.

"Thanks for the massage, Jen. You're really good. Make someone a proper little housewife someday," he smiled.

Jensen rolled his eyes, glad to retreat back to their normal teasing banter. "Aw shucks, darlin'. You only wish I could be yours."

Silence met him, rather than the witty insult Jensen expected to hear. There was an odd look in Jared's eyes again, a mix of that deep, embarrassing affection and something uncomfortable or pained, and also, well, hungry.

"See you tomorrow," Jensen said in a voice gone a bit husky, as he all but ran for his SUV.

*****

The next morning Jensen woke up pissed. He wasn't a kid. He wasn't a pussy. He might not wear his heart on his sleeve, but he wasn't a coward, and when he'd wanted someone in the past he hadn't fucked around just hoping they'd read his mind and make the first move. Sure, he was lucky enough to be pursued most of the time, but he hardly waited around for people to come to him. He wasn't like that; life was what you made of it, not what just happened to you while you sat on your ass, hoping.

Things with Jared might be different, sure, in that they were good friends and coworkers, and if he was wrong and Jared wasn't interested it might be awkward, but... All things considered, Jensen actually had a lot of faith that the two of them could work it out and still manage just fine, even if Jared was straight or just not into him or whatever.

Last night was the final fucking straw. He'd touched Jared before, of course, but never like that. Never slowly and purposefully, feeling the play of muscles and skin, indulging himself in the broadness of Jared's shoulders, the smoothness of his spine, the narrowness of his waist... _Feeling._

Man, he was so lost.

They had slightly different call-times the next day, so he rode alone to the set feeling like he was steeling himself for battle, swallowing a boost of courage along with his morning coffee as he tried to figure out a plan of action. A half-dozen scenarios later, he gave up, got out of the van, and just decided to go with his gut and whatever felt right at the moment.

He was a bit more enthusiastic than usual, pushing open the door to the room where he and Jared ran lines, and had to juggle to not spill his coffee or the one he'd grabbed for Jared or the updated copies of the revisions tucked under his arm.

A large hand caught the door and rescued one of the hot paper cups. A broad chest in a crisp new black t-shirt with the words **Wanted: Meaningful Overnight Relationship** filled his eyes.

It was tight. _Far_ tighter than the other shirts had been. It seemed to be flirting with him.

How dare Jared's shirt be that tight? How dare it be so slutty?

How dare Jared give him that million-dollar grin when he noticed Jensen was having a hard time dragging his eyes away from his chest?

"Bought the wrong size, I guess," he smiled, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Hmm," Jensen grunted, setting down the remaining cup and the scripts. He turned and purposefully took Jared's coffee and set it down on the table, too, ignoring the puzzled look he got. He moved back and stepped in close, invading Jared's personal space in a way he almost never did, and certainly not with this level of purposefulness, ever.

"Your shirts," Jensen growled. "Are they flirting with me?"

Jared smiled a little. "They might be."

He tried to come up with something witty to say but the curve of Jared's lip was too distracting and Jensen really just wanted to lick it, so he did. One hand curled around Jared's neck and the other held him steady by the arm, and their noses had hardly brushed before Jared's hands were gripping Jensen's waist in an eager and downright hungry way.

His tongue on Jared's full lower lip was perfect. Slightly chapped skin, too sugary-coffee flavored breath, and the weird angle resulting from the novel experience of kissing a giant just made it all more real, more honest, more really happening. Not a quick friendly thank you kiss or a drooly-drunk and silly smooch or a "hey look at us" grope goofing around for the cameras, but a _real_ kiss. And it felt like home.

Well, if 'home" was the sort of thing that made you want to rub all over it and see if it was getting as turned on as you were, and maybe wanted to continue this somewhere a bit less vertical, or at least with a wall or something for support because your knees were threatening to get weak at some moment in the near future. Then yeah. Home.

A few more kisses later it was more like wrestling with their mouths than delicate kissing. They were both too eager for it and couldn't decide who was in charge, and neither of them seemed likely to give way and let the other one lead instead. They were both sort of chuckling about it in between increasingly sloppy kisses, but it was just too goddamned hot to stop altogether. Jensen snorted and decided to buckle under, letting Jared control things for a moment and start walking them back toward the sofa. He grinned and twisted at the last second so Jared went down first and he came out on top, literally - straddling his waist, hands on his chest.

They looked at each other, the first time Jensen let his face be totally open and honest and raw in months. It was all right because Jared was giving him the same honor and the lust in his eyes was simply fucking breathtaking. What goddamned fools they'd been, dancing around each other.

Still, no point in fussin' over the past, one of Jensen's inner voices noted, and he quite agreed.

He rocked his hips back and down, feeling the ridge of Jared's cock against his inner thigh and rubbing his own trapped erection against the firm body below as his hands slid under the bottom of that too-tight, slutty little shirt. He pushed it up until he could rub his thumbs across each tight brown nipple, getting a moan in reply as Jared's hands clenched on his hips, then loosened and curved around to squeeze his ass.

They rubbed against each other, rocking back and forth and exploring each other's mouths for long moments unhindered by any awareness of time, until they were both breathless and Jensen reached for the buttons on Jared's jeans and popped them open.

Jared pushed him back a little and struggled to sit up, looking hesitant and flustered. "I'm not..."

"Fuck, if you say you're not gay, I'm going to smack you," Jensen growled.

Jared scowled back. "Wasn't gonna. God, you're such a jackass. I was _going_ to say, I'm not, like, casual about this kinda thing."

He raised an eyebrow, trying not to smile at Jared's somewhat embarrassed sincerity, as he answered. "Good. Me neither."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Ok. So... You wanna fuck me now or what, then?" Jared asked, a slow grin spreading across his face as he tipped his head back against the couch and slid his hands into his boxer briefs, pulling the fabric taut across his cock.

Jensen blinked, trying not to stare. "Um. We don't have to do everything all at once, you know."

Jared rolled his eyes. "Come on, Jen; I'm not a virgin. We've been tip-toeing around this for months now and hell if I'm letting you leave this room without fucking me blind. I _want_ you."

Time sort of stopped while Jensen savored those words and the matching look in Jared's eyes. Eventually the strangled feeling in his throat reminded him that he needed to exhale, you know, in order to breathe. In order to live.

In order to fuck Jared.

Jared licked his lips, a smug look in his eyes. "Hard and deep," he purred.

"Ok then," Jensen mumbled as his eyes glazed over and he leaned forward.

In moments both of their shirts were off and while Jensen was locking the door, Jared - that little minx - was fishing supplies out of his pockets and trying to act casual about it, like he always came to work with condoms and lube, just in case. They both laughed a little over that, but it didn't feel nervous or weird even though it was new; it just felt like _them_.

And then Jared was pushing his jeans down his long, long legs, holding Jensen's eyes, baring a whole lot more than just his body and inviting Jensen to dive in and take whatever he wanted. He couldn't remember the last time he'd shrugged off his own clothes so damn fast, but it was still almost too long before they were rolling around, skin to skin, finally landing on the floor because the couch was just too laughably small for the things they were going to want to do.

Jensen landed on his back with Jared on top, one hand on the floor and the other on his thigh. Jared took advantage with a wicked grin, pressing his own erection against Jensen's lower leg while he wrapped huge fingers around Jensen's cock and stroked and squeezed a few times before sucking it into his wet, welcoming mouth.

That was when Jensen's brain kind of fizzled out for a few minutes, in an act of self-preservation which was a little disappointing but probably for the best, long term. Jared could always suck his brain out his cock some other time, he reasoned, as he tried to put together the words that would make Jared stop before Jensen lost his mind. It was a close thing already, and required weakly pulling Jared's sweaty sexy hair until he stopped and looked up at him.

"Something wrong?" he asked. "I know it's been a while, but I didn't think I was _that_ bad...?"

"God," Jensen groaned, trying not to look at how Jared's lips were still hovering near his cock as if they wanted to get back to what they were doing. Why had he stopped him again? Oh right. "Um. You said you wanted to fuck? You're gonna have to quit that for now, if you still want me to top."

Jared grinned. "So much for it taking old guys longer," he teased. He poked his tongue out and dragged it up the length of Jensen's shaft. "We'll have to work on your stamina."

"Fuck you. I had a dry spell while I was trying to figure out if you were queer or just overly friendly," he pouted.

"Poor baby." He gave Jensen's cock another long lick, then moved to the side and licked his thigh. The somewhat strangled moan that produced earned Jensen a _bite_ that made his toes curl and his cock jump. Another lick to that spot and then Jared relented, crawling up Jensen's body for a deep kiss and letting himself be rolled over for his turn on his back.

Jensen tried to spend some time groping Jared, honestly, but the impatient whining noises were quickly replaced with, "Just come on already," and then he was reaching for the supplies, getting himself ready, slicking up his fingers and reaching for Jared's ass. It _did_ feel a little rushed, but they'd been dancing around this for over a year and right now it felt like this had been Fated ever since he'd first laid eyes on Jared, so he wasn't going to argue now that it was finally happening. It'd been almost two weeks of angst and Jensen was goddamned _done_ with that, thank you. Now wasn't the time for thinking; _now_ was the time for feeling and touching and tasting.

And fucking, he thinks, as he slides his fingers into the tight hotness and echoes Jared's groan at how goddamned _good_ it feels. He starts to lean in to suck Jared's cock while he fingers him open, but Jared grabs his skull and gives him a look that makes his toes curl and says, "Not now, Jen. Just come on. Please," and then his eyes roll back in his head as Jensen curls his fingers and hits just the right spot.

Fingers are replaced with cock, and after a brief pause for them both to catch their breath and for arms and legs to be rearranged more comfortably, Jensen's sliding into the perfect embrace, almost too tight, too hot, too much. Jared's legs wrap around his back and arms wind around and pull him down and yeah. It's that 'home' feeling again, that affection, and Jensen's awfully glad he's breathing too hard to be verbalizing any of this because, god, how embarrassing, but still. It feels really good, and not just physically.

Any thoughts are just going right out of Jensen's brain, though, because there's not enough room in his head for all this pleasure, let alone anything else. They're writhing together, just barely holding a decent rhythm, and the sounds Jared's making are going to drive him insane, so Jensen decides to break out _his_ mad ninja skills and wraps one hand around Jared's dick. He thrusts harder and deeper but slow and controlled, and Jared's cursing like he doesn't even speak any other language as Jensen milks his cock.

Finally, and surprisingly going utterly silent, Jared gives a violent heave and his muscles clamp so hard around Jensen's cock it almost hurts, it's so brilliant. Their chests are pressed together, so Jared's come doesn't have very far to go, drenching Jensen's hand and their bellies and finally on the exhale he lets out a groan that would probably make Jensen orgasm even if he was _dead_ , nevermind still buried balls-deep inside his best friend's ass.

Seriously, it's so pornographic there should be an award for it or something.

But instead of an award, Jensen just lets go and closes his eyes as he comes with a sob, face buried in the curve of Jared's neck and shoulder. Huge hands guide his rhythm for those last few aftershock-thrusts and then hold him there, deep inside, as he shakes apart, moaning.

A few minutes later Jensen opens his eyes to see that Jared's manhandled him into a cuddle and the sweaty smell around him is, in fact, not a dream. It's not a wonderful perfume either, but it's not bad and it's Jared and Jensen's man enough to admit that he likes it. In his head at least.

Jared wiggles around, then drags over his t-shirt and starts mopping up his stomach and Jensen's sticky hand. **Wanted: Meaningful Overnight Relationship** , it still says, and now that it's not stretched too-tight across one of the most sexy chests Jensen's ever seen, his brow furrows as he thinks about it.

Jared's apparently thinking about it too. He clears his throat. "Um. I'd kind of like more than just overnight," he says in a quiet voice.

He could play this either way, all emotional, or just be himself, the way he always is with Jared. The way they always are. Homey. Comfortable.

He rolls his eyes. "Dork," he says, pushing up onto one elbow to kiss the wobble away from Jared's lower lip. "Just promise me you'll never wear any of those t-shirts again."

Jared smiles, more in his eyes at first, although the dimples do make an appearance. "Deal."

And Jensen kisses him again because, well, he can. And because he's stealing all seven of those damn shirts and keeping them, for a hell of a lot longer than overnight.

Just like Jared.

~end~

  


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